


When You Fall

by LeggoxMyxGreggo



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeggoxMyxGreggo/pseuds/LeggoxMyxGreggo
Summary: Small moments between Din and Boba within Slave 1. Sometimes it's harder to sleep alone.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Comments: 106
Kudos: 1157
Collections: Movies





	1. Chapter 1

Din wasn't sleeping well. Everyone on the ship could feel it like an atmospheric pressure slowly pressing down on them. It kept everyone avoiding each other lest their combined tempers flare and make this mission harder than it has already become. With the unspoken agreement of avoidance, Boba wasn't prepared for an ambush in the weapons locker by two women he's sure could end him with a pinky should the urge come to them.

Boba settles his shoulders against the wall and holds his hands open in a gesture of 'get on with it'.

Fennec cuts straight to the point, voice low as though she felt someone would come stalking down the hall any minute, "do something about him."

This was about Din then. "He'll wear himself down to pass out soon." Boba's comment is cut short by a noise from Cara.

She shakes her head quickly, "no, once he gets in his head he's...." Cara puts her hands on her hips. "Until that child is returned to him-" She stops with a sigh and looks up, trying to come up with a way to explain their Mandalorian companion.

Boba raises a brow and looks between the two, prepared to take his chance to escape this conversation as soon as the opportunity presented itself. His plotting is interrupted by Fennec speaking up again, her voice low, "we-" she pauses, sounding unsure about something. Boba's thankful for the helmet keeping her from seeing him roll his eyes as he lets the wall take more of his weight.

He had taken to wearing his armor around now that it was returned to him, it seemed to make Din feel more at ease since their first meeting, though he could feel eyes boring into him from that beskar helm when he removed the helmet. Din never approached him about it, never commented, he just watched.

Fennec tapped her foot, drawing Boba's attention back to her. "We agree that you should do something about him. You haven't been so subtle about your staring, even with that bucket on your head."

No amount of dura-steel or beskar could hide Boba's surprise. "I think you started this conversation without me and have left out the important details of what and why."

"Everyone on this ship already knows you want to sleep with Mando except Mando," Fennec spoke clearly, obviously already tired with Boba's attempt at being clueless.

"I am not the only option here."

Cara cuts him off with a sharp wave of her hand. "I am not interested in him like that, Fennec is definitely not interested in him like that, and I'm pretty sure Mayfield would rather send himself out the airlock."

"And instead of knocking him on his ass a few times, you want me to what?"

"He likes to have a connection," Cara continues, looking back to Boba, "maybe the whole Mandalorian thing will help."

He looks between the two women before conceding and accepting defeat, "move." This wasn't a fight he wanted to deal with right now.

"Don't look so beat up by it." Cara taps his shoulder with her knuckles and grins when he lets her get away with it. "We've all seen the way you watch him."

Boba shoulders between the women in search of Din. He debates raising a one-finger salute over his shoulder at the two women but decides against it.

\---------------

Din is in the cockpit, exactly where Boba suspected he would be. He spent much of his time up here as though the stars held the answers he sought.

Boba drops into the pilot seat and leans over to check on the navigation as he waits for Din to come back to him from wherever his thoughts had taken him. It's not too long before Din slowly tilts his head toward him in acknowledgment.

"The girls want me to proposition you," he wastes no time pointing out the traitors in this situation.

"Proposition me?" Din's voice is slow and Boba worries he may have read him wrong, that he was still disassociating and he'd interrupted.

"They think you need a few rounds to-"

Din's voice sounds almost amused as he interrupts Boba, "I doubt that's what they said."

He shrugs and nods, "I embellished a little."

"What do you want?"

Boba pauses. He hadn't been ready for that question or for Din not to outright turn him down. "What do I want?"

"Yeah," Din turns his head finally from the stars in front of them to look at Boba. "What do you want?"

He sits quietly contemplating his options. Being straightforward had gotten him this far and Din seemed to respond better to it than his previous hints and playful suggestions. "Well," Boba turns to face Din, "what I want is to pin you down and fuck you until you forget how to speak basic."

The silence after his admission is heavy between them. It makes Boba nervous. Maybe he'd been wrong, maybe Din had been ignoring those hints on purpose.

Din's voice breaks Boba out of his slow descent into panic, "and if I want that too?"

Boba wants to offer to join him in his bunk now, wants to pin Din to the console and take him here. Instead, he says, "then I would say that as soon as we have your child back, I will be more than glad to follow through." Din's head drops at the mention of his foundling and Boba reaches out to place his hand on Din's thigh, "until then, I wouldn't mind keeping your bed warm if you'll have me."

Not for the first time, Boba wishes he knew what Din was thinking, wishes he knew him well enough to know what to offer. He wants more than their previous conversations have given him; to know what drives him, to know what memories made up this Mandalorian beside him. Boba is sure that all of that is asking too much of the man, just getting his name had been a test of patience.

He's sure he's overstepped his bounds somewhere. Maybe in bringing up the foundling or maybe when he offered more than sex. Boba takes his hand back, folds his hands in his lap, and waits.

Boba tilts his head when Din finally lifts his head with a quiet, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," Din sighs, nods his head as if he's settling on a decision. "I don't want to sleep alone."

The admission is unexpected but not unwelcome. He nods and motions to the door, "lead the way."

Din stands with a scoff, "aren't they your sleeping quarters?"

This was true, Boba had given his quarters to the grieving Mandalorian. It was all he had to offer and he felt the man needed some kind of comfort and space. "They're currently your sleeping quarters."

\---------

Din and Boba stand beside the door to the cot. The space wasn't too large, just enough that they would be able to crawl in and out comfortably enough but it wasn't a room or bunk that would be found on a higher-end luxury ship.

The door hisses open, Boba looks to the cot and then to Din. "How do you want to do this?"

"You lay first..."

"You'll join me with the light off?" Boba confirms as he's already working the armor off piece by piece. He may not know the Mandalorian creed that Din lived by but he did his best to respect it, no matter how much he wanted to see the man under the mask.

Boba's armor comes off with the ease of familiarity and it takes little time before he's climbing onto the cot. The light shuts off as the door closes and Boba settles to wait, listening to the sound of Din setting his armor besides his own. A selfish part of Boba wants to sneak a look at Din in the dim light he knows will shine in the next time the door opens. He doesn't give in to that part of himself, choosing instead to lay his arm over his eyes.

The door hisses open and the cot sinks as Din climbs in beside him. There was enough space for both men to lay on their backs if they chose. Boba rolls onto his side to face Din, listening to his soft breaths as he reaches across the empty space to touch Din's back. He waits for a reaction, sliding his hand down Din's side when he's not pushed away.

"I thought you didn't want to do anything." Din's voice is different without the modulator. Different but still familiar.

Boba curls his hand around Din's hip and gives a gentle pull, "I can't warm your bed if you're all the way over there," he teases softly. It earns him a soft huff that he's sure would have turned into a laugh under differing circumstances.

When Din doesn't respond or pull away, Boba slowly slides his hand back up Din's back, enjoying how the man shivered under his hand. He wasn't going to move closer, despite how badly he wanted to feel Din pressed against him, he would let Din make that choice to come to him. He doesn't stop his touches though, slowly rubbing his hand down Din's back, spreading his fingers as he rubbed back up to feel the way muscles shivered at his touch.

Din relaxed slowly, muscles slowly loosening under Boba's reverent touch. Boba's gentle petting is rewarded when Din finally moves, pressing back into him. The hand that had been previously rubbing Din's back rests against Din's side before Boba slowly curls his arm around the other man.

Nice wasn't his specialty and he rarely allowed himself such pleasures as holding another in his arms. His time in the Sarlacc pit was a reflection on what he had lost and more than that, what he had never allowed himself to have.

\--------

There is a weight against his chest that has Boba confused when he wakes. It's unfamiliar and panic begins to set in before he remembers where he is.

Sometime in the night, Din had taken advantage of him having rolled onto his back. He breathes slowly to calm himself, remind himself where he is, and carefully brushes his fingertips along the body against him to orient himself. If he had been alone or had anyone else been here, Boba would have thrown the light on, he's glad now, that he hadn't given in to the fear. He's thankful at least some part of him had remembered the trust the unmasked Mandalorian had in him.

With the fog of sleep now gone, it was easy to feel how Din had curled up to him. He's not sure how they had managed to shift so drastically without waking. Din's head rested against his shoulder, his hair tickling Boba's jaw with each breath. An arm curled across his chest, one of Din's legs pinning one of his own. Boba's arm was asleep from Din's head pillowed on his shoulder. He wonders the time, wonders if he should wake Din.

A soft sigh from his companion makes up his mind for him and Boba settles, reaching up with the hand not pinned to rub along Din's arm. He would wait for Din to wake and take a selfish advantage of the feeling of the other man held so close.

Boba tilts his head, pressing his lips to the top of Din's head, and closes his eyes. This was the most settled Din had been since their journey began together. He could spare his arm and body heat for the man to rest.

\----------

Whatever had happened planetside had undone the progress Boba had made in getting Din settled. The man sat still as a statue, staring straight ahead instead of looking to the stars as he had been the days previous. Boba was conscious of the sullen presence behind him and waits for Cara to slip away with some comment about finding Fennec before he stands to approach the Mandalorian. He lays a hand on Din's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"Have you rethought your offer?" Din's voice is so quiet that the modulator crackles between the words.

Boba squeezes again. "I'm not going to fuck you yet." A quiet sigh is all he receives in response. "I'm not going to be used for a distraction." He waits for a response, rubbing his thumb in small circles. When none is received he pats Din's shoulder. "Come with me."

He leads the way back to Din's sleeping quarters, confident the man would follow him. Reaching the small space, Boba turns to face Din, motioning for him to come closer. Din takes small steps to stand before him. Boba can feel the unease coming from Din. The Mandalorian's hands were clenched but he can still see the minute tremors that made his fingers tremble.

Whatever had happened had pushed the Mandalorian to that breaking point. This was a man who didn't know just how far he could fall after so many years clawing his way up.

Boba holds a hand out for Din's, pleased when a gloved hand slides into his own. He gives a soft pull to bring Din closer so they stood nearly chest to chest. This close he can hear the quick breaths as Din tried to keep the modulator from picking up the sound of his breathing and exposing what Boba is beginning to think is the start of a panic attack.

Carefully, Boba begins removing Din's armor, setting each piece aside within the man's line of sight. He doesn't stray far from Din, hardly a full step away each time he laid the armor down, never so far that Din couldn't reach out to touch him at any time.

It's not until he starts to tug the gloves off that Din takes advantage of Boba standing so close, a bare hand curling around Boba's bicep. Boba pauses at the touch, Din's gloved left hand held between his own. The grip on his arm doesn't tighten or loosen as he waits. As he continues to remove the glove, Din's fingers twitch but he doesn't stop him.

Boba steps back, nods to the blouse of Din's flight suit, "get that off for me."

"What?" Din's voice gives away just how far his mind hand been.

"Remove the blouse for me." Boba tugs at the piece of clothing and turns to give Din the space to remove his helmet. He rearranges the armor as he waits, checking each piece for damage as if it were his own armor. Din hadn't worn this armor for the mission, he was aware, this was more for Din's sake, for the Mandalorian to see him treating the beskar as reverently as his own.

After each piece has been inspected, Boba stands to face Din who now stood bare-chested before him, blouse clenched tight in his hands. He takes pity on the man, opens the space to the cot, and motions for Din to sit on the edge. Din follows the silent order without hesitation, handing the blouse to Boba as soon as he held a hand out for it. Boba smoothes the fabric before folding it and setting it amongst the pile of beskar.

Boba pauses then to remove his armor, working just as carefully as he had with Din's. Unlike Din, his own helmet is removed to rest on his folded cape.

Returning to Din, Boba crouches down and pats his thigh for Din to rest his foot on it, unlacing his boot before slipping it off. He was making a point with this, removing the armor and boots, telling Din without words that he was safe to let his guard down. He pats his thigh again when he's ready for the next boot.

Boba settles back on his heels after he's set both boots aside. He sits back enough to take in the sight of the other man. Armor was uncomfortable when it wasn't your own. Despite his lack of complaint, the Imperial armor had left its mark with bruises beginning to color the skin where it had sat wrong, redness where an edge had rubbed throughout the mission. Boba straightens and stretches, feeling Din's eyes finally focusing on him.

"Do you walk to talk about it?" Boba's voice breaks the silence once again as he steps into Din's space to investigate the injuries, minor as they were.

"No."

The response is expected.

"Do you need to talk about it?"

This seems to catch Din off guard, the man maintaining his silence as he makes his decision. Boba deems the bruises and irritated skin minor enough and straightens, letting his hands rest on Din's shoulders.

"Okay, easier question: you got anything on under those trousers?"

That one Din answers with a nod and a soft, "yes."

Boba nods, "take them and the helmet off and lay with me." One hand leaves Din's warm skin to shut the main light off.

Din doesn't respond except to stand up, coming chest to chest with Boba who refuses to back away. He feels the helmet come off, Din's shoulder brushing against him as he leans past him to add it to the twin piles of armor. Din's breaths were coming easier now it seemed.

"Are you going to undress?"

The question makes Boba smile and he reaches out to Din, cupping his jaw in both hands to draw him close. "No." The man was frozen under his hands, it was a heady feeling. "Your trousers, Din." He can feel where Din's hands had gone still at his waist. He waits before dropping his hands from Din's jaw to his waist, finding the laces to loosen them enough to have the trousers falling from Din's hips. Din needs no prompting to step out of the trousers and Boba picks them up, folding them and setting them aside.

Din steps away to climb into the cot without prompting, apparently finding that easier after Boba had stepped aside. He chuckles and follows, smoothing a hand up Din's side as he climbs in, careful to keep his eyes averted until the door shut and the automatic light shuts off.

Boba stops with a hand on Din's shoulder, pausing before cupping Din's jaw and leaning down to finally brush their lips together. A shaky breath from Din ghosts Boba's lips and he smiles, kissing him again. Boba settles down beside Din, curling his arm around him to pin him to his chest. Din doesn't fight him, melting against him under the onslaught of soft kisses.

From here he lets Din set their pace, content to kiss him when Din sought him out and just as content to hold him when Din would bury his face into his shoulder. He doesn't allow him to push for more, maintaining his boundary against being just a distraction.

It's once Din's breathing evens out and his body finally gives up the stress he had carried that Boba relaxes his hold on him. He doesn't go far, moving his arm just enough to card his fingers through Din's hair, earning him a full-body shiver.

"I haven't shown my face to another since I had sworn the creed." Boba doesn't make any sound as Din finally speaks, opting to continue his gentle petting. "All of you would have come upon the face scan."

The realization of what had happened finally sets in and Boba tilts his head to press his forehead to Din's. He may not understand the creed that Din swore his life to but he can recognize just how much of himself he had given to find his foundling. "It will not be for nothing," he promises quietly, meeting Din for a soft kiss when he lifts his head. "Rest, I've got your six."

\---------

Boba is used to waking alone. He tells himself that he understands why Din would slip away come the end of the sleep cycle and pushes down the sting of disappointment each time he wakes with the space beside him empty. He will accept what Din is willing to give him. Sleeping unprotected with someone originally seen as a threat would not be something Boba would be willing to give. He wonders if he may be taking advantage of the odd innocence of the other man. Or taking advantage of the situation.

Dropping into the pilot seat, Boba pushes those thoughts aside. Those were thoughts for the dark of the shared sleeping quarters, not for contemplating in the high traffic space of the cockpit. Cara and Fennec had already figured out more than he wanted them to know about his interest in Din without needing to somehow read into his contemplations regarding the man.

Boba pauses before he can start his routine check on their course, he tilts his head and reaches out to grab the ration bar from his console. He turns to look at the empty seats around him as though someone had snuck in at some time while he was lost in thought. Just as he expected, no one was there.

Slipping the helmet from his head, Boba sets it on the floor beside him, tearing the ration wrapping with his teeth as he sat up. He has a theory as to who left the food for him.

\---------

It happens three more times before he's able to confirm his theory. Three more sleep cycles with Din curled close to him, three more mornings waking alone, three more times he's sat in his seat to find a ration bar perched on his console.

The closer they got to Gideon, the lighter Boba found his sleep to be. They were getting close to danger and no matter how comforting it was to have Din sharing his space, instinct woke him with every shift or sound from the other man. This was how he found that Din would kiss him before slipping from the cot.

He can't help a smile when he wakes to the soft press of lips to his own, raising a hand to card fingers through Din's mess of curls to pull him down for another kiss and another. Din's soft chuckle is well worth doing it again.

"I didn't mean to wake you." Din's voice is gravelly with sleep still.

The sound of it makes Boba want to roll them over to hear if it affected Din's usually soft groans, a sound that he's gotten to hear only when his hands find a sore spot of overly tight muscle. Instead, he tugs Din close again, murmuring against his jaw, "then I deserve another kiss for payment."

Din, it seems, doesn't disagree and allows him one more kiss before slipping away. Boba lets him, using his arm to cover his eyes and allow Din privacy as the light flickers on with the opening of the hatch. He listens to the sounds of Din dressing, waiting until he's sure the man was almost finished before speaking up, "those green ration bars taste like shit."

The complaint is met with a snort and the soft sound of footsteps as Din left.

When Boba finally reaches his pilot seat, he chuckles at the sight of the red wrapped ration bar.


	2. Chapter 2

Rescuing the child left all of them a little worse for wear. None of them made it away from the fight without blood lost. Boba's glad that Fennec at least made it through the other side with the least damage, she'd been through a lot since he'd found her. Her sniper skills came in handy and had kept her safe. 

Aside from a good blow to the face and a thankfully poorly aimed blaster, Cara didn't look to be hurting too bad. She hadn't favored anything on her race back to the ship and even now she was more focused on the floor and the child clutched tightly in Din's arms. If he was holding too tight, no sound of complaint came from it. 

Boba checks that they were on course to as far from their current position as their fuel levels can get them. He motions to Fennec to keep watch and stands, ignoring the three sets of eyes that followed him on his short walk to Din. The Mandalorian hasn't said anything, has hardly moved, and it would be unsettling if Boba couldn't see his shoulders moving with each breath. The child's wide eyes watch Boba from the moment he stands until he's stops before it and it's protector. Din doesn't raise his head and Boba hesitates a guess that Din may be toeing the line of exhaustion. 

There's no response as Boba touches his fingers to Din's helmet. "Cyar'ika," he tries, the words feeling clunky in his mouth but it has the reaction he wanted as Din's head twitches up. A hand grabs Boba's wrist tightly but he doesn't remove it, waiting until Din's eyes meet his own before he lowers his head to Din's, pressing their foreheads together. "Come with me." His voice is just loud enough for the modulator to pick up, as close to a whisper as he can manage. 

Din nods against him. It takes everything Boba has to step away. A quick check behind him shows Cara having taken his recently vacated seat, both her and Fennec's backs facing them. He's thankful for it and the false sense of privacy it offers. 

He trails after Din, letting him lead the way to their now shared quarters. A green ear peaks past Din's arm and Boba smiles at the sight. It felt good to see the child returned though he worries about what Din will do now. Will he just leave now that Boba has held his end of the deal? Din's ship was no more, he may be able to offer his continued services until they have enough credits or until he can figure some way to make him stay. 

The crash of Din's pauldron colliding with the wall of Slave 1, jerks Boba from his thoughts and he hurries to catch Din before he slides to the ground. It was a failed effort as he instead slows the man's descent until Din sat on the floor. The modulator crackles at the end of Din's quiet, "I'm fine". Through the armor, Boba can't tell if this was exhaustion or an injury. 

Crouching, Boba makes quick work of Din's armor, careful not to dislodge the child from his lap and ignoring Din's insistence that there was nothing wrong. He takes it as a good sign when Din holds his hand out for Boba to remove the gauntlet and glove instead of fighting him. It's harder to get the chest plate off, working around the child, but its managed with only minor cursing as Boba's own armor gets in his way. 

With the armor out of the way, Boba feels along Din's back and sides, searches for sign of injury that may have gone otherwise unnoticed. Its not until he's removed his gloves and felt again that he feels it, where the flight suit stuck to his side with drying blood. Din's breathing was harsh as Boba's hands passed over the tacky cloth, his shoulders drawn up tightly in pain. "You are a fool, Mando." Boba's too worried for any heat to tinge his insult. 

"Stay still," Boba orders as he stands, leaving only long enough to find a med kit. He returns to them quickly, pleased to see Din hadn't moved. Exhaustion and pain had kept him quiet and compliant. That's Boba's hope at least, that the wound would be superficial, that the weeks had just caught up with him at the return of his child. 

"Need to remove my helmet," Din's comment is unexpected as Boba kneels to lift the hem of the bloody blouse. 

"Why? Did you hit your head too?" 

The modulator picks up a huff from Din. "No. But you cant reach if its on." The blouse would not come off without the helmet first. For the first time since they had found the child, both of Din's hands leave the small body to grab the helmet and Boba moves quickly to cover Din's hands with his own, to stop him removing it. He'd find a way around it. 

"Not like this," Boba shakes his head, "I won't-." 

"I trust you," Din's voice is soft and the realization of what he's saying hits Boba like a punch. He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Din's once again. 

Boba sits back slowly, dropping a hand to the back of the helmet, cradling it carefully as he lifts it free. He keeps his eyes averted, focusing on the rise of Din's chest. Din's hand cups his jaw and Boba shakes his head, "not like this, not when you're hurting." The blouse of the flight suit comes off next and Din hisses as his skin meets the cold metal of the wall behind him. 

Din's hand returns to Boba's jaw and he presses his lips to Din's palm in apology. Bruises along Din's torso give away each hit that Din took, the beskar protected him from the damage of the blasters but the force of them still left their mark. Boba curls an arm around Din's shoulders and pulls him close to see the wound he'd felt earlier, frowning at the sight of it. The wound was jagged, not blaster fire then, someone had gotten in close enough to hit their mark with a knife. He reaches for the wound, pressing along the edge, an action that makes Din suck in a sharp breath. "Shhh, I will be quick. Focus on the child." 

"Grogu." 

"What?" 

Din's responding laugh is quiet and breathless. "His name is Grogu." 

This was the most Din has spoken since their final run through of the plan that morning. It felt like it had been so long ago. "Did you name him?" Boba keeps his voice level as he grabs a small canister of bacta spray. 

Din shakes his head but doesn't elaborate. Boba let's it go, wincing at the pained noise Din makes as Boba applies bandages to protect the wound while the bacta did its job.  
"Lay down and get comfortable," he murmurs, rubbing his hand over Din's back as he stands. He steps away from Din to face the opposite wall and strip out of his armor, listening out for Din. 

Boba rubs his hands over his face, pressing his palms against his eyes as the day begins to catch up to him. So much could have gone worse, someone could have died. He cuts off that thought quickly and rubs his face once more before finally turning to join Din and his foundling in the cot. 

After he's gotten comfortable and settled, a hand resting over Din's ribs, feeling them expand with every breath, he feels a hand cup his jaw. Din's thumb rubs his cheek softly. Boba can feel Din move closer, the child cradled between them, and Din's forehead rests against his own. He slows his breaths to match Din's and falls asleep just as he hears the soft whisper of "cabur." 

\------

Boba wakes to the soft cooing of the child. A small clawed hand touches his cheek, tempting him to open his eyes. The child babbles at him and he gives in, cracking an eye open to look at the small form. That hand pats his cheek again and he chuckles. "You are up early," he whispers. "Hungry, ad'ika?" The question is met with another coo that he takes as a yes. He listens to hear if Din is awake and is pleased to hear his even breaths. 

Carefully, Boba maneuvers himself from the cot, keeping his eyes closed until he's standing from the sleeping space. He has to commend Din's ability to slip away without waking him. 

"No," he holds a hand out as the child starts trying to squirm his way up. Boba doesn't want to begin to imagine the panic taking the child with him in search of food would cause Din. "Keep an eye on your father, I'll get breakfast." He doesn't wait to hear if the child listened to him, closing the hatch on the father and child. 

Their combined habit of keeping their clothing and armor is the same place is a blessing at times like this as Boba walks slowly in the darkened space. Forgoing his armor, he tugs his boots on and leaves to find Cara and figure out what the child ate. 

"Dune." Boba's voice comes out quieter than he intends, he ignores it and pushes forward, "what does it eat, the child." 

Cara's response of "anything" is met with an unamused look. "I'm serious, just about anything that isn't nailed down." He waits to ensure she's telling the truth before leaving to grab a ration bar, contemplating getting some for Din before giving in and grabbing another. 

They would need to stop to refuel and stock up on better food soon. Boba contemplates the space he could create to keep fresher food on hand for the child- no, Grogu, he reminds himself before he pushes the thought aside when he remembers that he doesn't know what Din will do after this. There was no use planning for a future that may not exist. 

Boba toes his boots off before climbing back into the bed. Din's breathing was still even and slow despite the child's chirping excitement. In his sleep, Din had curled an arm around the squirming child and Boba gently lifts Din's arm to free him. 

"Come here, ad'ika. Let him rest." Boba lifts Grogu onto his chest, letting it sit on him as he lay on his back, one foot blocking the sensor to keep the hatch from closing so the light would stay on. The point of the child's green ears brushed the ceiling of the space as they wiggled . He chuckles as tears the top of the wrapper from the bar before passing it to the now excited child. 

He can't remember the last time something so small had been in his care, if ever there had been a time. A clawed hand curls around one of his fingers and he looks down to see that it didn't even wrap all the way around his finger. It made his chest ache with an unfamiliar feeling. 

"I could have gotten up." Din's voice is sleep rough and slow, giving away how deep his sleep had been. 

Boba tilts his head in the man's direction but doesn't look, keeping his eyes focused on the child sitting on his chest. "You needed the sleep." 

Din hums instead of arguing. Boba feels the thin mattress dip as Din shifts closer. He tilts his head up as soft hair tickles his chin and is rewarded by Din pressing close to his side, his head pillowed on Boba's shoulder in an imitation of that first night. 

"Do you want the light off?" Boba asks quietly, curling his arm around Din's shoulders to scritch dull nails gently at the base of Din's skull. The action gets him a full body shiver that makes him smile. 

"No," Din shakes his head, careful not to dislodge Boba's hand. "This is fine." 

The trust Din was putting in him was once again not lost on Boba. He slowly tilts his head just enough to press his nose to Din's hair, wrinkling his nose at the smell but not pulling away yet. "You need a fresher," he murmurs. 

Din's responding laugh is as quiet as their voices. Boba is determined to get to hear it again before Din steps off of his ship and out of his life for good. "You're not one to talk right now." 

Grogu is distracted from his meal by Boba's hand, investigating it as though he hadn't realized he'd grabbed onto it earlier. The squeaks and coos makes Boba smile and his accusatory, "are you saying I smell," comes off lighter than he had intended. Din hums softly instead of responding. 

"I grabbed you a ration bar; eat and then use the sonic." Boba slips his hand from the child's grasp to grab the second bar and drop it in Din's direction, quickly returning his hand to the child who grabs him again and gives it a shake as though he were telling him off for daring to let go. 

The wrapper of Din's bar crinkles as he fidgets with it, his silence projecting his anxieties. 

"I will keep him with me," Boba promises. 

"I just-," Din shakes his head and takes a bite of his ration bar instead of finishing his sentence. 

Boba thinks he knows what he was going to say, that he still felt that this wasn't real, that'd he come back to Boba and the child would still be gone. He doesn't hesitate to attempt to soothe Din's worries, "we will sit outside the door for you." 

Din leans away and Boba misses the warmth. "Boba," his name sounds different when Din's voice isn't distorted through a modulator. He wants to hear it again. "Look at me?" Din's voice is low and firm as though he's making up his mind. 

"Din-" 

"Please." The soft plea does it and Boba turns his head, focusing first on the brown hair that tickles his jaw when he holds Din. It was lighter now that it wasn't matted with sweat from the helmet. It curled against Din's forehead, nearly into his eyes. 

Boba swallows thickly, meeting Din's gaze. He thinks he understands now, what it means to have warm eyes. Din only meets his gaze for a few moments before looking anywhere but at him, nervous. "Shame," Boba whispers, "to keep this face from the world." The corners of Din's eyes crinkle when he smiles and Boba ducks down to capture his lips in a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> •cyar'ika - darling, beloved, sweetheart  
> • ad'ika - kid, lad, boy, sweetie, darling, son, daughter, child  
> • cabur - protector or guardian
> 
> I am brian-fuxing-may on tumblr of anyone would like to cry about Boba/Din with me.


	3. Chapter 3

The planet they stop to refuel at is hardly a blip on anyone's map. Boba had been surprised that the small mining planet was still active but no less willing to take a chance on Fennec's information. What she knew was still less outdated that what he did. 

As the droids began the fueling process, Boba had pulled Cara aside to send her into the nearby village to grab some better food for the child with specifications that it was to be better than ration bars. It was a low bar to set but without modifications to Slave 1, it was the best he could manage. She had looked ready to make some joke before changing her mind and with a mocking salute and a "aye, sir," Cara to the credit stick from his hand and left Boba with his ship and Din's anxious pacing. 

Boba watches the droids outside for a moment longer before turning back to the ship. Like most neglected mining planets, this one had a larger population of droids than organics. He had yet to see any organics beyond those who had arrived with him though he knew some to reside in the village a short distance away. None that would find their presence alarming, short reprieve from running. A chance to catch their breath and work on any pressing repairs. Thankfully fuel and food were all they needed. 

Grogu meets Boba at the open door, hands raised in a request to pick him up. Indulging himself more than Grogu, Boba crouches down for the child to run to him, smiling as he all but threw himself into Boba's open hands. Small hands grasped his helmet as Grogu babbled. Everytime Grogu's voice quieted, Boba would hum in acknowledgment to get him chatting again. While he did not understand what he was being told, the way the child's ears would perk and then wiggle happily was more than enough encouragement for Boba to play along. 

Returning to the cockpit, he found Din as he'd left him earlier, anxiously pacing across the floor. Boba clears his throat as he comes in, not wanting to spook Din when he turns around for another lap across the relatively small space. "Keep this up and you'll put a hole in my floor." 

Din pauses in his pacing. Boba walks closer and holds the child out to him, smiling when father and foundling reached for each other. Din tucks the child close to his chest and Grogu settles down, a clawed hand grasping Din's krayt dragon pendent. "Sorry," Din whispers. Despite the fact that the man was looking down at Grogu, Boba knows that the apology was directed at him. 

"Whats got you so anxious?" Boba's question is met with silence and he frowns. "Lay him down to rest, I'm going to close the hatch." Din falters only a moment before following the command. Boba doesn't move until Din has left, closing the ship door and stalking down the hall to find the Mandalorian. 

Din meets him halfway and Boba grabs the fabric of Din's cape in a tight fist, pushing Din back against the wall with a crash as beskar meets the metal. Boba steps close as Din attempts to straighten, pinning the man with an arm across his chest. "What has gotten into you?" 

There's a soft thunk as Din drops his head back, dropping his defensive posture. Boba let's the silence drag between them until Din finally gives in with a huff. "I..." he tilts his head to look past Boba, "I am uncomfortable stopping so soon after-" 

"It is better we stop not than to run out of fuel and leave ourselves vulnerable." 

"I know," Din grumbles, still wound tight with anxiety. Boba waits him out once more, refusing to relax his arm accross Din's chest. He uses his other hand to remove his helmet, pinning Din with a palm to the chest as he rests the helmet down before reclaiming his previous position with his arm across Din's chest. Minutes pass in silence before Din let's the wall take his weight. "The droids." 

Din doesn't elaborate until Boba slides his open hand behind Din's neck, grasping tightly and creating a second grounding point of pressure.  
Din's weight shifts from one foot to the other. "I dont like droids," he admits quietly. 

Boba hums, sliding his thumb to the pulse point of Din's throat, feeling the way his pulse jumped. "Can I remove your helemt?" He's seen the Mandalorian's face a few times now, each time making sure that Din was okay with it. He gets a nod in response and Din reaches up to remove it himself, letting Boba take the helmet and lay it beside his own. Once he straightens, he doesn't hesitate to cup the back of Din's neck once more, feeling the way his pulse jumps as Boba pulls him into a kiss. He presses a knee against Din's legs, rewarding him with another kiss as they spread for him. 

A quiet groan slips from Din's mouth as Boba's teeth graze his lower lip, prompting him to do it again. No one would be returning to the ship for some time, giving Boba the time with Din he had been waiting for. Slowly, he kisses along Din's jaw to his neck, drawing another soft sound that he wanted more of. He curls his fingers in the neck of Din's blouse, pulling it down to bare soft skin to his kisses and soft bites. 

Din clung to his shoulder and waist, back bowed in pleasure as he bared his throat. Boba pulls away slowly, not ready to stop mapping the skin available to him with his mouth but wanting even more to get his hands on Din as well. He makes quick work of Din's trousers once he's removed his belt, letting it fall to the floor and out of his way. He bats Din's hand away from his own belt with a soft, "no." 

He makes a show of licking his hand from palm to fingertip, enjoying the way Din's eyes followed the motion. Better than that was the low moan he receives as he slips his hand past loose trousers to grasp Din's dick, giving a slow pull. Boba grins and returns his attention to the exposed skin of Din's throat as he starts a slow rhythm with his hand. 

Din was beautifully responsive, hips rocking into his hand, soft moans escaping from red bitten lips. Boba tilts his head, whispering into Din's ear, "tell me when you're close," before grazing his teeth over his earlobe. This action earns him a whimper and he does it once more, twisting his hand. The rhythm he had set doesn't falter as fingers curl around his bicep, squeezing tight enough to leave a mark. 

"Please, fuck," Din's voice is soft and still far to collected for Boba's liking, "close, I'm close, please." The begging is nice, settles warm over him but the whine he gets as he removes his hand from Din's trousers makes him throb. 

Boba grabs Din's hips to pin him to the wall, keeping him from chasing that orgasm that had been so close. He kisses the man softly in contradiction to his tight grip. "So desperate already," he chuckles and presses his thigh against Din's tented trousers. "I haven't even done anything." 

He doesn't return his hand until Din's breathing has calmed and his hips were no longer fighting his hold. "Tell me when you're close," Boba reminds him and the look he receives in response tells him that Din had caught onto his game. Stilling his hand, Boba grabs Din's jaw in a tight grip, it wouldn't bruise but it made his point and forced the younger to look at him. "Be a good boy and I may let you come." He softly squeezes Din's member but doesn't move until Din nods. 

The third time Boba stops him just on the edge of orgasm, Din's head falls back against the wall with an accompanying growl. He's learned now that Boba's grip wasn't going to let up and didn't fight the pinning hold, the twitching of his thighs and hips was now something that he couldn't control, a tremble that forces him to rely on the wall behind him and Boba in front of him to keep him standing. 

"Gedet'ye," Din pants, he clung to Boba one hand curled tightly around his shoulder pauldron as the other held tightly to his bicep. Boba would be surprised if he did not leave bruises. 

Boba presses a kiss to Din's thundering pulse, slowly biting down before laving his tongue over the marks. He's left his own marks over the pale throat in front of him, kissing one of these bruises he murmurs, "what was that, cyar'ika?" He gets a whimper in response and then a soft begging, "gedet'ye, gedet'ye, gedet'ye," has him pulling back to cup Din's jaw, making him meet his eyes. Din's lashes were damp with unshed tears. He looked beautiful and debauched. Din looked like his. 

Curling a hand behind Din's head, he pulls him down to press a soft kiss to each eyelid before kissing his forehead. "Ori'jate, cyar'ika." The hand not cradling Din's head slips back into his trousers to softly and slowly stroke him once again. "Come for me, cyar'ika." It takes few strokes for Din to come, curling into Boba as he shook through it. Boba slowly lowers them to the floor as Din's legs finally give out and wraps his arms around him, holding him tight to his chest as Din shook through the aftershocks. 

Boba cards his fingers through Din's hair as he waits for the trembling to subside. As Din finally catches his breath and comes to himself enough to nuzzle into Boba's neck he reaches for his belt, stopped by a calloused hand. Boba brings the hand up to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. "I got what I wanted, cyar'ika." 

"You didn't come." Din's voice is still breathy, giving away that he was still catching his breath though his chest was no longer heaving. 

Boba kisses Din's knuckles again. "I dont want to come right now. I only wanted you." 

Silence settles comfortable around them. Boba's glad that Din doesn't move to pull away nor does he reach for him again, accepting Boba's boundary once more. 

"You said you'd fuck the basic out of me." Din's accusatory tone surprises a laugh from Boba. His following, "that doesn't count," making him laugh harder. 

"No, cyar'ika, that doesn't count. " He presses his lips to Din's temple. "First chance I get to lay you on a bed, I will do as I promised. I'll fuck you until you cant walk, make you come until you beg." He lifts Din's face to kiss him. "And then, in the morning, I will fuck you again until all you know is my hand and my voice. " Boba smiles as Din's breath catches. He's sure that the man's pulse would be racing again with his promise. 

"Lets get you somewhere more comfortable than the floor." Boba pats Din's thigh, grinning as his hand is grabbed tightly to keep him from touching the sensitive skin. 

"I dont think I can stand yet, " Din admits, voice tinted with embarrassment that Boba found endearing. 

"I dont know when the ladies will return," Boba turns his hand in Din's hold to intertwine their fingers. He doesn't move to get them up, instead leaning back against the wall, and settling to hold Din until he was ready to move. His helmet was nearby in case they returned before he's ready. From an outside point of view, he didn't look well fucked, Boba's sure he can come up with some excuse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Gedet'ye - "Please"  
> • cyar'ika - darling, beloved, sweetheart  
> • Ori'jate - "Very good"


	4. Chapter 4

Cara was nearly three standard days behind them by the time Boba started to feel anxious about what would come next. He had his armor, Din had his foundling, and the final member of Din’s ragtag rescue party had been returned to their home. By all accounts, Boba had held up his end of the bargain and nothing kept Din and Grogu with him beyond lack of a ship.

“Credit for your thoughts?”

Boba’s fingers stop their tapping on the console in front of him at the sound of Fennec’s voice. He hadn’t realized he was projecting his anxieties. “You couldn’t afford them.”

Fennec makes a disbelieving noise and Boba’s sure she’s going to drop the subject. He sits up to check their navigation and she is proving him wrong once again. “What will you be doing with your Mandalorian?” The question is asked as though she just remembered that Din was currently cleaning weapons down below. A check through his limited peripheral shows Fennec sprawled in her seat, pointedly staring at him with her head cocked. She looks pleased when she catches his eye and Boba knows that playing dumb is a lost cause. 

“Take him to find a ship, be on our way.” Boba’s words sound forced to his own ears. “He’s not my Mandalorian.”

Fennec doesn’t make a sound, but Boba knows she’s just rolled her eyes. “No, you only whisper soft nothings in Mando’a to him and send people to find his child food, he couldn’t be your Mandalorian.”

Boba’s, “he’s his own person,” is cut off by Fennec sitting up to interrupt him.

“Fett.” She leans towards him, voice low and threatening. He knows he’s not in danger here, but the sound still puts him on edge, aware of the danger he could be in if she chose.

Boba turns to face her fully. “We will take him to get a ship and be on our way.” Fennec’s eyes narrow at him. She sits back with a “hm” and turns her attention to the streaking stars outside. The action reminds him of those first days with Din, the way the man stared out to the stars as though he could find the answers to the universe within them. She doesn’t push the issue from there, but Boba feels as though he’s walked into a trap that only she knew of. 

He narrows his eyes at the sharpshooter and stands. “Send an alert if there is any issue. “He stalks away from his seat to seek Din or Grogu, whichever was still awake.

Din, it turns out, was still awake. Dexterous fingers working each piece of the blaster into place with practiced ease. Boba lays a hand on the back of Din’s neck, twitching his hand away from the sensitive skin to grab his shoulder instead when Din twitches at the touch. Maybe he hadn’t heard him coming. 

“Cyar’ika.” Din’s hands don’t still as he hums in response instead of the usual greeting he would give. Boba rubs his thumb over the shoulder under his hand, stilling has he feels Din tense. “Join me?” Something in Din’s posture was off. The now regular relaxed demeanor was gone. 

“When I’ve finished.” 

Boba tilts his head at Din’s voice. The terse tone was not usually directed at him since they had begun sharing sleeping quarters. Even before…the tone was close to that of their first meeting when Din had thought him an imposter after his armor. Boba slowly nods, trying to convince himself that Fennec’s line of questioning had made him edgy. He rubs his thumb over the tense muscles of Din’s shoulder, giving a small nod. “When you’ve finished,” he agrees before stepping away to their sleeping quarters.

Grogu makes a soft sleepy sound as Boba slips into the cot. He rubs the child’s back gently as he settles, letting him curl up to his chest to keep warm. 

Din never joins them.

Somehow, Din manages to disappear within the belly of the ship, avoiding Fennec and Boba both. This new behavior sets Boba on edge, rethinking each of their interactions to figure out if he had overstepped some boundary. Nothing comes to mind.

Boba stands in the small kitchen space. Calling it a kitchen was an exaggeration, it was merely a space with a small table and benches that folded from the wall. It had a small freezer compartment that had previously not been working but he had cleared it out and rewired it to keep something better than ration bars on board for Grogu. The cup of cafe in Boba’s hand had gone cold some time ago and he’d taken to swirling the dregs that were left, watching the gritty particles swirl along the bottom, lost in his own thoughts.

Not even twenty hours had passed since Din’s strange behavior had begun and it was already under Boba’s skin, settling wrong over him like wearing someone else’s armor. 

A soft sound jerks Boba from his thoughts and he turns his head to find the source. It was Grogu’s childish babbling, he was aware, but the child was no where in sight. Pushing from the table he had leaned against, he moves in search of the sound, following it to find an odd sight; Grogu, balanced on Fennec’s leg, little hands grabbing at the console in front of them. He almost wishes he had a way to capture the sight.

Fennec’s sharp eyes catch his reflection in the cockpit transparisteel and narrow. Her threat is clear without any words. If he said anything about this, it would take no effort for her to deal with his body. He raises his mug of cold café toward her and wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

“Find your Mandalorian and fix your mess. Your moping is annoying.” Only Fennec could keep her voice so steely with a child bouncing on her knee, he thinks. 

“That’s why you have the kid.” It comes out as a statement instead of a question and she raises a shoulder in response. He already knows the answer. She’d set a trap of some sort and he’d walked straight into it and here he was doing it again. “Fine.” He says nothing more as he turns, ignoring her knowing smirk.

For his size, Din was sneaky. If Boba hadn’t been looking, he would have missed the man sitting on the floor between some odds and ends he’d stashed below for quick repairs. Shiny beskar be damned, he managed to hide in plain sight. 

Boba ensures that Din hears his footsteps, not wanting to startle him. He stops beside him, leans against the wall and lets it take his weight as he slides down, facing Din with his legs outstretched beside him. He felt naked without his helmet on, having left it in the small kitchenette in his search for Grogu and now Din. He leans his head against the wall, looking to the ceiling, and feels the way that Din pointedly refuses to look at him.  
“Cyar-“

“Don’t.” Din cuts him off, voice rough and low. It could almost be mistaken for a growl if Boba couldn’t hear the hurt that clung to the single word. He reaches out to lay a hand on Din’s calf, anything to find a connection with the man, but aborts the movement when Din moves his leg away.

Boba swallows and folds his hands in his lap. He waits for Din to settle, for him to recognize that Boba wouldn’t reach out again, but he wasn’t going to leave. For the first time in a long time the silence feels like it’s too much. 

“Din,” there’s a small twitch, he was listening. Boba pauses, searching for the words he needed to fix this. He was so used to hurting others that sitting here, trying to piece together this gentle man who hurt so much, felt like an impossible task. Fixing Fennec had been easy, he was good with his hands but, words eluded him. He gives up searching for the right thing to say. “Where...what-“ he pauses and rubs a hand over his face before sighing. “I don’t know what to do,” He admits quietly, voice hardly above a whisper. 

Din doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. To anyone else, the man would appear to be asleep but there’s a shift in his breathing that tells Boba he’s listening. 

“Please.” Boba whispers feeling as through there was a deep chasm between them instead of mere inches. The silence drags once more, every passing minute feels like another crack between them. His silence and his words both working against him to drive Din away. 

“What happens after this?” Din finally asks, his voice didn’t hold the same warmth that it had the morning before.

Boba looks to the dark visor of Din’s helmet; wishes he could see through to the man inside. “What do you-“

Din’s voice is sharp as he interrupts, “just get a ship and send me on my way?”

He realizes the trap Fennec had walked him into and why her voice had taken on that warning tone; she’d seen Din, she knew he’d heard. “Oh.” Boba doesn’t even realize he’s spoken until Din snorts and turns his head to look further down the hall they sat in, tilting his visor away from Boba.

“Oh,” Din mocks, arms crossed firmly over his chest. The action should look ridiculous, childish even, but instead it highlights the pain that Boba’s words had caused. Din was creating a barrier between them, protecting himself.

“That’s not-“ Boba pauses, picking his words carefully, not wanting to come off as deceiving. “I…should not have said that.” He speaks slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. In battle he knew his next move without thought but in this tight hallway with Din pulling away, putting those walls back up, Boba finds himself struggling to find the right way forward. “Din,” he reaches out, projecting his movements for Din, giving him the chance to deny him. When the man doesn’t move, Boba lays a hand softly on Din’s ankle, fingers curling around the rough leather of his boot. “I did not like Fennec prying,” he admits, “I said something I thought would make her stop pushing.” 

Din doesn’t reply, he doesn’t move. Boba waits for something, anything, before pushing himself onto his knees to get closer to Din. He touches the edge of Din’s helmet, dropping his hand to his shoulder when Din’s pulls his head away from him. 

“Din,” he tries softly, “I mean it when I call you cyar’ika. My darling,” he shifts his hand carefully, rubbing the side of his thumb along the soft exposed skin of Din’s jaw. Boba presses his temple against the beskar that protected Din’s. It wasn’t their normal keldabe kiss, but it was the closest he felt Din would allow him to get. 

Boba doesn’t move as silence settles once more. It wasn’t so oppressive as the last, but he can feel that he has not been forgiven nor is he fully believed. “May I remove your helmet?” He asks softly.

The responding “no” is expected though it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

“I do not know how to love,” Boba swallows as his voice threatens to crack, “but I want to learn to.” Slowly, Din’s presses his helmet against Boba’s temple, a careful return of his affections. A gloved hand comes up to rest against the back of Boba’s head, holding him close.

“What happens after this?” Din asks again, modulator crackling as he tries to hide the way his breath hitched. It does nothing to hide the tears that dampened Boba’s gloved thumb.

“Anything you want. If you want to leave-“

“I don’t,” Din interrupts softly, “I don’t want to leave.”

Boba nods. “I don’t want you to leave,” he admits softly. He shifts, pulling away only far enough to sit beside Din, taking his hand carefully between his own. “Anything you want.”

Din slowly leans into him, visor focused on their hands. “You.”

“What?”

Using his free hand, Din slips his helmet from his head, laying his head on Boba’s shoulder. “I want you.” Without the tin of the modulator, Boba can hear the way his voice cracks.

He places a soft kiss to the top of Din’s head, careful not to look at face as he looks down before burying his face in the unruly curls. “I want you too, cyar’ika.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cyar'ika - darling, beloved, sweetheart


End file.
